The Star and the Shadow
by ivyfedora
Summary: Lilya Chernova has everything there is for an Ekat. She's smart, beautiful, rich, and has even stolen a Clue. Life couldn't get any better, until the end of eighth grade changed everything. Now she's been passed up at the branch awards for a snarky redhead, loses her math competition to a eleven-year old and drops three spots down in the leadership board. Something's got to go.


**A.N. Doesn't periwinkles and cream sound so much lovelier than blueberries and cream? Thanks to my ever so lovely beta, Clara. Ian might be a bit OOC, but okay. Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues.**

"Perwinkles?" he says in his usual gangsta swagger, a pair of brown eyes twinkling playfully. The special smile flits across his face, the one he reserves for her. Financial

I feel a pang of jealousy; what does she have that I don't? A lifetime of stealth training is the only thing holding me back from barging in there and screaming my head off.

Sinead Starling is not what I had expected. She has a dry sense of humor, curses like a punk skater and slathers everything she says in a coating of sarcasm. It doesn't make sense. With a clearly less-than-acceptable personality, why is she so popular among the clue-hunters? Why did Grace choose her, the sarcastic nerd... over me?

Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, she always took the medals, the money and the fame, like it was nothing at all. The first toast at _my_ fifteenth birthday party was dedicated to _her_—"the best agent we've seen here in a while."

She showed up for the Cahill annual ball in a space-invader t-shirt and jeans. Jonah bailed her out with the very dress I'd been dying to wear ever since I saw it in Venice.

He used his security clearance to borrow the centuries-old Victorian dress, one that had been a Shakespeare original.

Lilya Chernova saw the dress first.

Lilya Chernova thought it would go great with her pink eyeliner, the glittery one from Harrod's.

Lilya Chernova asked for it first.

Lilya Chernova even tried flirting with him.

Sinead Starling didn't even ask for the dress.

But Sinead Starling wore the dress, and the Duchess of Cambridge's wedding tiara as well. (He had to pull a few strings to get that one, but he said that it was the only hair accessory that would "go" with the dress.)

Lily Chernova had to watch bitterly as a girl she hardly knew twirled around in the dress she'd been pining for ever since she saw it.

I was the best agent the Ekats had ever seen for three whole decades. But when she turned thirteen, all of a sudden, the tide turned. I was smiling in a puffy pink dress, mustache bracelets and neon orange skyheels. I never even saw her; just heard her name called over the microphone, and bitterly left.

So when she was put in the hospital, I was exuberant. The minimum recovery time for the type of burns she had were eight months at best.

The branch awards were in six.

I took advantage of my good luck and interrogated, hacked and poisoned my way into the leaderboard. I hit all the Cahill hotspots, and I stole a clue from the Tomas.

But _she_ developed a whole different way to treat the burns and was out in four months. I was humiliated at the awards, because she did everything I did, and half-awake in a hospital bed, too. Even the math competition I thought I would win informed me that I had been bested by some eleven-year old boy in Boston.

I wasn't chosen to be in the Gauntlet, and on top of that, the clue was a false one that she had convinced Hamilton Holt to plant. Apparently he's also sweet on her.

"Blueberries are overrated," she scoffs, twirling a spoon around in the fluffy white. "Just because some Janus decided to call a certain shade of blue periwinkle doesn't mean that we have to too."

"A'ight," he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "We'll call it periwinkles and cream."

She smirks at her victory, swallowing a spoonful of the mixture. He bats away her spoon with his, igniting a whipped cream fight. I hear giggles from the kitchen, the sounds of squirting and his loud laughter.

The blatant flirting is disgusting.

It wasn't fair. How come she got to have the fairy tale ending?

* * *

_His name was Josh. Just an average name for an average boy. Except he wasn't average, he was as tangled up in the Clue Hunt as I was. _

_The first time we met, he smiled at me and said, "Magneta cowboy boots?"_

_The only thing we shared in common was the wacky sense of fashion. So I built our relationship off there._

_It became a habit of mine to wear at least one thing out of the ordinary on the days I saw him. Maybe Christmas socks in September, a giant witch's hat in October or fuzzy red heart antennae for Valentine's day._

_Natalie called my outfits "vomit-inducing."_

_My friends came up with some theories, including one where I was brainwashed by a Janus. They were more right than they knew. _

_The one funny thing grew to two, then three, then sometimes I'd wear totally uncoordinated outfits just for him. He'd smile dazzlingly, then ask where I got it. _

_But then I saw him with another girl. She was blonde, wore a purple gauzy dress that puffed out at the sides, and they looked happy together. At school, I pretended nothing was wrong. I smiled, talked to him about the latest fashion trends and laughed just like usual._

_Like I was still happy. _

_Like everything was perfectly normal. _

_Like my heart hadn't just shattered into a million pieces._

_After all that time, I was still just the girl in the magenta cowboy boots to him._

* * *

I tap my manicured fingers impatiently, waiting for my ride to come. Everyone else from the hunt has already left, and I'm stuck here with the two lovebirds.

I was under the impression that it was a party for all the Cahills. But apparently, anyone who was anyone at all knew that it was a party just for the clue-hunters who'd been in the Gauntlet.

At dinner, I was the only one who hadn't understood the subtle jokes about Ian's underwear and his extreme dislike of dogs. The conversation was always centered around Grace's hunt.

That's what everyone calls it nowadays: Grace's hunt.

It used to be that being a clue-hunter got you respect, even if, grudgingly, from other branches. Now, the only respected hunters are those who were on one of the seven teams.

They kept switching topics, and I didn't know anything about what they were talking about. When I tried to make conversation, they briefly responded before going back to their fond memories.

Old news, Lilya. That happened six months ago.

Um, we'd tell you, but it's kind of a long story.

It's one of those things you'd have to be there for.

Every time I laughed, they'd finished laughing five minutes ago. I sat there for over an hour, polite smile plastered on my face.

After dinner wasn't any better. Most of the hunters left, leaving Amy, Ian, Sinead, Dan, Hamilton and Jonah (it was his mansion, after all) alone with me. They played card games, Twister, and made more jokes about Ian's underwear.

Dan and Hamilton slept in the game room after pulling an (almost) all-nighter until three a.m. Ian and Amy went to the library, and I know for a fact that Amy fell asleep on Ian's lap. (Dan found them in the morning and screamed loud enough to wake the whole mansion.)

Jonah invited me to watch a movie with him, but what he didn't say was that Sinead would be there too. It wasn't so much as watching the movie as Sinead making sarcastic statements every five minutes.

"Oh yeah, that seems totally easy," she snorted when the recording of Jigsaw's instructions played. "It's _only_ in the lining of your stomach. No biggie, right?"

It was getting to be quite annoying, but Jonah didn't tell her to shut up or anything. He just smirked a lot and occasionally snickered at the blood spurting out.

They were already sitting close to each other, but somewhere during the closing credits of Saw IV and the opening of Saw V, they got even closer. She was leaning on his shoulder, and his head rested gently on top of hers.

"Mmph," she mumbled when he tried to move her blanket-covered body. "Mmnophaswheep (I'm not asleep)."

Jonah rolled his eyes fondly, even though Sinead couldn't see. "Sure. Go back to sleep."

I was the only one who brought an overnight bag last night, Jonah informed me. Dan didn't mind sleeping in his dirty clothes (shudder) and everyone else already had their belongings in the guest rooms for branch leaders, as Cora wouldn't need a guest room for her own house, and Ian and Amy were next in line for the Lucians and Madrigals respectively.

He told me to use the second guest bedroom, third floor. When I thanked him, I asked him why not the first guest room.

"Is there someone in it?"

"... You could say that."

* * *

"Why couldn't I have stayed in the Ekat room?" I ask haughtily when Ian comes down the stairs, hair perfectly gelled. "Jonah wouldn't tell me."

Ian raises an eyebrow, as if surprised.

"I was under the impression that you were raised as a person of your status," he says smoothly, guiding me to the front door like a lost child. "A good guest does not question their host's intentions, no?"

It's delivered in a nonchalant tone, but I frown at the rebuke. Is he hinting at something?

"May I ask, what exactly are you suggesting?"

He shrugs elaborately, gesturing politely towards the open doorway.

The desperate, restless urge that had been gently nudging, prodding me irritatingly, finally explodes. Because after all this—I'm not trying to sound all high-and-mighty or anything—I still truly believe that I'm better than Sinead Starling.

"How come Sinead and Jonah are so close?" I blurt out, but trying to sound like I don't care. "Really," I add, "she's nothing special compared to the Ekats I've known before."

He turns back around, all the warmth of his amber eyes gone.

"Maybe Jonah Wizard is an American git who can't sing anything worth listening to. Maybe Sinead Starling went to a ball in a t-shirt and jeans. I don't even know them as well as Dan and Amy do. But they went in the Gauntlet with me, and I respect them for that. I suggest you do too, because someday that boy will be a great branch leader. And you never know—the girl might be too. Good day, Miss Chernova."

* * *

My driver, William, comes around with the limo, apologizing repeatedly for his delay. I ignore him, concentrating on something else far more important.

"Hello, is this Cammy? Hey, this is Lilya. Call Danielle; I have something to tell you."


End file.
